


Kevin the Vampire Slayer

by Maeve_of_Winter



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017), Sabrina the Teenage Witch (TV), The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Canon Gay Character, F/M, Friendship, Gen, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Self-Harm, Supernatural Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9941462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: Supernatural-themed AU. Kevin Keller finds his life turned upside down when he finds out he's been selected to protect the town of Riverdale from the supernatural world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in the Riverdale setting, but there are various elements from the comics.
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading! If you ever want to chat, here's my [Tumblr](http://maeve-of-winter.tumblr.com/). I love discussion and hearing people's thoughts, so feel free to submit ideas or just talk Riverdale.

As far as family life went, Tom knew he was damn lucky. His three children were all bright, beautiful, and healthy. They excelled at school, clubs, and sports. They were also a huge help around the house. Kathy, his wife, needed to frequently travel for work. She loved the excitement of her job, and the generous pay provided necessary finances toward the kids’ college funds. But the position mean that during most weeks, Tom operated as a single parent and depended on the kids for the running of the household. As the oldest, Kevin bore the brunt of it, regularly preparing meals and taking care of the laundry.

Honestly, sometimes Tom thought he relied on Kevin too much, but his own job was fairly demanding in its hours. He held the position of the sheriff of Riverdale, and had done so for the past three years. Their family had moved to Riverdale eight years ago from New York City, where Tom had been a police detective.

Given Kevin’s various responsibilities, Tom was willing to cut him some slack when he started breaking curfew more and more often. After all, as Tom would relay to anyone who displayed even a passing interest, Kevin was a star cross country runner, an honor student, and the sophomore class president. His days started early and ended late. So if he needed to spend an extra half hour with his friends here and there between homework and leading half the committees of Riverdale High, Tom wasn’t going to fault him.

Then one night Kevin didn’t come until nearly one in the morning, almost three hours past his ten o’clock weekday curfew. Every call to his phone went unanswered. Tom stationed himself at the kitchen table, clutching his police radio and desperately listening for any signal that might relate to Kevin, horrible scenarios running through his head all the while. Images flashed through his mind of Kevin lying on the side of the road after being struck down by a reckless driver, being accosted and assaulted by some undesirable, being hurt and disoriented and unable to call out for help.

Tom tried to be logical, even though he had to fight the urge to call all the hospitals in the surrounding area to check if his son had been brought in. Kevin was probably perfectly safe; he easily could have just decided to sleep over a friend’s house on a school night (in flagrant violation of the house rules) and forgotten to call and let Tom know (another violation). How many times had he reassured hysterical parents that their lost child was, in all likelihood, fine, and that they didn’t need to be worried? And all but one time, he had been right.

Jason Blossom was the exception. He had never returned home, and now no one knew where he was.

And if some terrible fate could befall the son of the wealthy and prestigious Blossom family, Kevin was just as vulnerable. He could be hurt, dying, or already lost. Good God, what would he tell Kathy if one of their children ended up dead on his watch?

Finally, as the grandfather clock in the front hall chimed a quarter past twelve, Tom heard the back gate scrape open, and he eased out of his chair to wait by the light switch. The back door slowly creaked ajar, and Kevin slipped inside, obviously trying to avoid noise. The lights were off, so he didn’t see Tom right away, but Tom let his presence be known when he flicked on the overhead lamp.

His mouth was already open to launch into an angry tirade, but then he saw the state Kevin was in—one of his eyes was bruised and swelling, blood dotted his face, and dark stains spotted his clothes.

In an instant, Tom’s fury shifted to concern as he strode over to Kevin, taking his face in his hands. “Jesus, God, Kevin!” He exclaimed. “What the hell happened to you?”

Kevin wore an expression of severe dismay. “Dad, calm down.” His voice was low and hoarse, rasping in his throat.

“I will not ‘calm down,’ ” Tom growled as he steered Kevin into the chair he himself had vacated just before Kevin walked in. “Sit.” He settled Kevin into the chair as gently as possible, and then moved to the fridge, extracting a bag of peas from the freezer and a water bottle from the main section.

“Dad, it’s fine—” Kevin started, but Tom interrupted him before he could finish, handing him the bag of peas and placing the water bottle before him.

“Put the peas on your eyes and drink some of that water,” he ordered. Seeing Kevin tense at his tone, he deliberately softened his voice. “I’m just going to get the first aid kit, and then I’ll be right back.”

Swiftly, he retrieved the first aid kit, along with a dampened washcloth, from the first floor restroom and returned to the kitchen. Kevin was obediently sipping the water, to which Tom nodded approvingly.

Opening the first aid kit and rifling through its contents, he extracted a small flashlight. Quickly shining the beam into Kevin’s eyes, he noted the pupil dilation with relief. Good, there was no concussion. With at least one of his fears assuaged, he withdrew several disinfectant wipes and band-aids. Reaching forward with the washcloth, he set to begin washing the blood of off Kevin’s face, but Kevin jerked back at the motion.

Tom froze, staring at his son. He had seen that reaction before, usually from victims of assault or domestic violence. He hated to think of what it meant to see that reaction in Kevin, but he knew he had to face the possibility.

“Son,” he said quietly, trying to soothe his own racing heart as well as his child. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Biting his lip, Kevin hesitated. “The blood is going to leave stains on the washcloth.”

“I don’t give a damn about the washcloth,” Tom responded, his worry making his words more terse than he intended. Guilt rushed through him as Kevin’s gaze dropped to the floor and rested there.

Kevin nodded silently and then reluctantly leaned forward again, letting Tom tend to his injuries.

For a few moments, Tom concentrated on cleansing Kevin’s face, being extra careful around his wounded eye. Kevin still flinched each time Tom so much as brushed close to the swelling, and every time his son shied away from him, Tom found himself growing angrier and angrier.

Still, even in the midst of his rising temper, Tom observed an oddity: while blood was smeared across Kevin’s face, there didn’t seem to be any cuts or scrapes, no broken skin. Despite his dread and outrage, he couldn’t push back a stab of pride; if the blood wasn’t Kevin’s, that meant his boy had fought back. And Kevin, Tom recalled, fondness briefly breaking through his dark mood, had always been a superb fighter, the top of whatever self-defense classes Tom had signed him up for.

But the moment of happiness was gone when Tom returned to the reality of his situation. Kevin was still silent, avoiding all eye contact as Tom carefully placed his hands beneath his jaw and turned his head from side to side, checking for further wounds. Satisfied for the moment, he lifted Kevin’s chin to force his son to meet his eyes.

“You need to tell me who did this to you,” Tom said firmly. “I don’t care if it was a fight or a misunderstanding or something else, but you owe me an explanation of what happened.” Inwardly, he was praying that Kevin hadn’t been assaulted.

Kevin half-heartedly pushed his hand away. “It’s complicated.”

“What sort of answer is that?” Tom could hear the edge in his own voice, and he had to fight down his frustration. The last thing he wanted to do was take his anger out on his son, especially considering he was hurt.

“The best I can do at the moment.” Kevin let out a deep exhale, rubbing his arms as if overcome by cold, and Tom noticed him wince with the motion.

“You have more injuries,” Tom realized, cursing himself for not checking earlier. He should have known that if Kevin was sporting bruises on his face, he was likely damaged in other areas as well. Taking a deep breath, Tom steeled himself to ask his son the necessary question, even as his stomach churned at the potential answer. “Kevin, I need you to be honest with me. Were you assaulted?” He swallowed. “Sexually, I mean?”

“No.” Kevin’s response was instant and certain, and Tom felt himself sag in relief, mentally thanking God his son had not undergone that trauma.

“Well, then,” he said, composing himself once more. “C’mon, take off your shirt. Let me check you out.”

Kevin made no motion to comply and instead just stared back at him, wariness evident in his gaze.

It killed Tom to see his son look at him with such suspicion, and his stomach dropped as it occurred to him that just because Kevin hadn’t been sexually assaulted didn’t mean there hadn't been an attempt.

“Kiddo, I need you to work with me here,” Tom told him, trying his damnedest to reassure his son, even as he could feel worry fraying away at his patience.

Kevin merely looked away.

Biting back a sigh, Tom reached out and began unbuttoning Kevin’s shirt, keeping his movements quick but gentle. “Son, once I make sure you’re all right, we are going to have a long talk.”

Pushing apart the halves of Kevin’s shirt, Tom was sent reeling, even though he had prepared himself for the worst. Dark bruises of all shapes and sizes littered his son’s skin; there were more abrasions than spots on a leopard. The vividness varied—some were obviously recent, while others were fading to yellow and green at the edges. The lesions had obviously been acquired over some period of time.

Rage washed over Tom as it registered that not only had someone been hurting his son for weeks, but that Kevin had never said a thing to him about it. Still, he forced down his fury and concentrated on examining the extent of the damage.

“I’m going to need you to do what I ask. I want to see if any of your ribs are broken. Okay?” Tom wanted to explain his actions out loud, both to reassure Kevin and to remind himself that he was currently playing the role of caretaker, not angry avenger—but that _would_ come later.

“Okay,” Kevin said lowly.

“All right. Stand up and take a couple of deep breaths for me. Keep them even and slow.” As Kevin did what he said, Tom meticulously studied his son’s torso, inspecting for any signs of swelling or a flail chest, and was relieved to find no hint of either. “Any pain when you’re breathing? Shortness or shallowness of breath?”

Kevin shook his head.

“Rotate your upper body from side to side,” Tom instructed. “Any sharp pain? Any parts that really hurt?”

“No,” Kevin said. “Just a dull ache. It’s felt like that all along, though.”

Tom accepted this answer; he hadn’t noticed any indications that Kevin was in more pain than he was letting on. “Good. Sit back down and start taking those deep breaths for me again. I’m going to be applying a little pressure, but you let me know if it gets to be too much.”

Extending a hand, he pressed against Kevin’s breastbone and listened for any gasps or sharp intakes of breath, making bargains with God all the while. Luckily, God seemed to be listening for the moment, and Tom couldn’t find any problems.

After a thorough examination, Tom was able to conclude that none of Kevin’s ribs appeared broken, but his fears weren’t entirely assuaged. “Anything flares up, you let me know right away,” he told Kevin. “And that’s not a request, but a command. You got that?”

“Got it.” Kevin’s expression was tired.

“Good.” Tom fixed his son with a penetrating stare, trying to disguise his worry. It wouldn’t do his kid any good to see his father falling to pieces. “Now, you’re going to sit right there and tell me what happened.”

“Um . . .” Kevin seemed to struggle with himself. “It might be better if I show you.”

Frowning, Tom scrutinized the teenager before him, wondering what he could possibly have to show. “Go ahead.

Some of the color left Kevin’s face,  but he nodded in affirmation. Then his hand darted into the first aid kit and extracted the folding utility razor. In an instant, he flicked open the blade and drew it down his outer forearm, creating a long gash in his skin.

“Jesus Christ, Kevin!” Tom exclaimed in shock and concern. “What the hell do you think—”

“Dad, watch.” Kevin held out his arm. Blood was oozing from the wound, but then . . . it wasn’t.

To Tom’s utter astonishment, time seemed to move in reverse: the blood retracted back into the cut. Then, before his very eyes, the gash closed, the skin knitting itself back together till there wasn’t a mark left on his arm.

Tom stared at Kevin in disbelief.

“Like Wolverine, isn’t it?” Kevin tried to joke, but the attempt at levity failed; nervousness was obvious in his voice. “Dad—”

“C’mere,” Tom said, pulling Kevin out of his chair into a hug, but remaining mindful of his bruises. “You’re my son, you go that? I don’t quite know what’s happening, but I’m your father, and you’re my son, and nothing will ever change that. Understand?”

“Yeah.” Kevin returned the hug, gripping his father’s shoulders tightly. “Thanks, Dad.”

They embraced for several moments, before Kevin pulled back, looking up at him.

“You know, you don’t seem all that surprised,” he remarked, searching his father’s face.

Tom shrugged. “I’ve seen some strange events during my years in the force, and after a while, I’m willing take some things in stride, even if they seem impossible.” He made an effort to keep his voice as offhand and noncommittal as possible; his son didn’t need to know everything (or anything) he had seen.

Kevin smiled, relief clear on his face. “Thanks. I’m so glad you don’t think I’m a freak.” His smile faded. “I guess you still want to hear what happened?”

“I’ll never not want to hear what happened when you come home beat to hell,” Tom replied firmly.

“Okay.” Kevin anxiously ran a hand through his blond hair. “So, uh, I met this girl. Sabrina. From Greendale. And she said that I’d been chosen to be sort of, like, a negotiator between the human citizens of Riverdale and the supernatural contingent. Sabrina called it being a Forest Guardian. This . . . Witches Council, I guess, appoints regular people as Forest Guardians every so often, when there are too many threats and conflicts between mortals and um, non-mortals. The Forest Guardian gets a special weapon and armor, and then they have to follow orders from the Council to solve problems. And they also get magic healing, too. That’s what you saw.” He paused and glanced at his father.

Tom nodded, encouraging Kevin to continue. For the moment, he was simply absorbing the information.

“You know how Superman can only really be harmed by magic? I mean, besides kryptonite. Well, that’s me right now. No mortal or mortal device can truly hurt me—those wounds just heal right away. Magic is a little different. I can’t be killed by most forms of magic. I can be wounded, though.” Kevin gestured to his chest and then to his eye. “The more serious the injury it is, the longer it takes to heal, just like regular injuries. Still, usually the bruises are gone by morning. And . . .” he paused, as if trying to locate the right words. “I have different abilities, too. Nothing all that incredible—just increased speed, strength, stamina, and combat anticipation, to help me when I’m fighting.”

“Who does this council have you fighting?” Tom inquired, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Vampires,” Kevin said with a practiced nonchalance. “There’s this group of good vampires called the Riverdale Coven.”

“Creative name,” Tom commented.

A huff of laughter emitted from Kevin’s mouth. “Yeah. And the less-good vampires they’re having a turf war with are the Lucifus Coven.”

“Turf war?” Tom scowled. “That sounds dangerous. For you and the town’s civilians.”

“I’ve got my abilities as a Forest Guardian,” Kevin reassured him. “And the vampires are keeping away from the civilians at the moment, due to orders from the Other Realm. I’m just being sent in as peacekeeper.”

“Hmm.” Tom sat back in his chair. “So, was it the Riverdale Coven or the Lucifus Coven that beat you to a pulp?”

“Riverdale,” Kevin admitted. “There was a misunderstanding. But everything’s been smoothed over for now. I’m ready to continue the negotiations.”

Tom was not comforted. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you battling vampires on your own, or this Witches Council deciding your life for you.”

“It’s not battling,” Kevin protested. “Well, not at this point. And look, at least if I’m the Forest Guardian, we both know someone competent is doing the job. Look at what all that I’ve accomplished with student government.”

The comparison did nothing to console Tom; if anything, it was evidence that Kevin was out of his depth, that he couldn’t comprehend the seriousness of his situation. But as much as he wanted to continue the conversation, Tom couldn’t help but glance at the clock. “You know, it’s very late. Why don’t go on up to bed, and we can continue this conversation in the morning?”

Kevin’s eyebrows shot up at the sudden dismissal, but he rose from his chair all the same. “Right. I’ll do that.” He started toward the staircase, but then paused and turned back to Tom. “Dad . . . are you sure you’re okay with all of this? I mean, you seemed accept me being, er, _different_ so easily.”

Tom stiffened, his mind racing as he realized the importance of his response: this moment was crucial to Kevin regarding his support, and he could feel the weight of his son’s gaze upon him.

To his relief, he was able to formulate a sufficient response. “I don’t like you being put in any type of danger. But I also understand that you’re trying to do what’s right, even if you aren’t in this situation of your own violation.” He gave Kevin’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I trust you, Kevin. Please remember that.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Kevin seemed to take heart in his response. “Do you mind if I take shower? I know it’s late—”

“Not at all,” Tom reassured him. “Go ahead. I won’t be upstairs for a little while, anyway.”

“Good night, Dad.” Kevin’s voice was quiet, but he was smiling.

“Good night, son.” Tom smiled back, waiting until he heard Kevin’s footsteps recede up the stairs before striding to his study, his cellphone in hand.

The girl from Greendale, Sabrina, could only be Sabrina Spellman. Why else would she know about the Witches Council and the supernatural? Though Tom had never met the girl personally, he knew her aunts. During his time in Riverdale, there had been a couple of police cases that had involved magic, and they had worked with him during the investigations.

Scrolling through his list of contacts, Tom located the house phone number for Hilda and Zelda Spellman and jabbed the call button with his thumb, impatiently listening to the first several rings. He was going to get his son out of this mess if he had to fight his way through the entire Other Realm by himself.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is a flashback of Kevin first meeting Sabrina. It takes place prior to the first chapter.

When Kevin Keller first met Sabrina Spellman, he had been almost certain she was a total lunatic.

He had encountered his fair share of whackjobs over the years. Since middle school, he had tried to cultivate the image of a well-rounded, multi-faceted individual, who was interested in not just sports, but also academic clubs, civic organizations, local committees, and community service. Unfortunately, the more he tried to expand his horizons, the more he was a magnet for a certain brand of people.

Like moths to a flame, the socially desperate, the emotionally needy, and the infuriatingly clingy all ran to him. They were in frantic search for a crutch, a counselor, or a support system, apparently laboring under the mistaken impression he was up for the job. He supposed that it was because on a purely superficial level, his life looked ideal—as it should have, because he worked hard to make appear that way—and thus people automatically assumed his day-to-day routine wasn’t rife with his own problems.

So when an unknown girl with a short blonde bob plopped herself down opposite him at his table in the public library, Kevin was at once wary and vaguely annoyed.

“Can I help you?” he asked, carefully keeping his tone polite as he didn’t even both to close his copy of Hemingway’s _The Old Man and the Sea_. It was his assigned summer reading for his honors English class.

“Sure!” She replied brightly. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Sabrina Spellman.”

Kevin smiled cautiously, deliberately not making any move toward her, omitting the customary handshake. “How nice for you.”

“And you’re Kevin Keller. Which is pretty nice, too,” Sabrina said with a wink.

Kevin paused. “You know my name.”

“I know a lot about you.” Sabrina leaned forward conspiratorially. “Including things you don’t even know about yourself.”

“Oh, really?” Inwardly, Kevin rolled his eyes. He didn’t mean to sound like a put-on upon martyr, but it was just his luck to get stuck with some screwball when he was only trying to study. His mind racing desperately, he set about determining a method to make this weirdo go away, and decided that refusing to indulge her antics would send her packing. “Well, I have all the knowledge I need for the moment—”

“If that was true, you wouldn’t be reading that book,” Sabrina returned mischievously. With a covert glance around, as if ascertaining no one was watching them, she gave a simple twirl of her fingers. Without warning, the book in his hands jerked from his grasp, slamming shut and sliding across the table to rest before her. Folding her arms, Sabrina let them rest on top of the book, looking at Kevin with a challenging expression.

Distinctly unimpressed, Kevin only arched an eyebrow. “If you don’t mind, miss, I’m trying to study. So if you could just take your magic tricks somewhere else—”

“Tricks, huh?” Sabrina smirked. “How’s this for a trick?”

She fluttered her fingers in his direction, and suddenly images flashed through his mind at a rapid. Men and women battling creatures—demons, goblins, vampires, werewolves, spirits—throughout the centuries, gaining scars and losing friends and families as they continued the draining, endless conflict. Brandishing weapons and emblems, they charged off toward danger again and again, even when they knew the fight was hopeless. But they ran toward the fray, confronting death with courage, dignity, and grace, refusing to show any type of fear as they invoked the ultimate sacrifice.

The visions ended as abruptly as they had begun, leaving Kevin whirling, struggling to refocus on his physical location. As he regained awareness of his place in space and time, he noticed he was clutching the library table in a white-knuckled grip. Unprying his fingers, he laid his sharking hands on the table before him.

“What—what the hell was that?” He managed.  

“We-ell, it’s like this.” Sabrina spun lock of hair around her finger. “I don’t mean to be be cliché, but it turns out you’re kinda-sorta the chosen one . . .”

What Sabrina then told him basically boiled down into three main points: 1) she was a witch, 2) he was something called a “Forest Guardian,” who was supposed act as an intermediary between the mortal and supernatural worlds, and 3) he was acting on behalf of the Witches Council, who were the primary governing body of the supernatural world.

Along with providing him the armor he would need for his duties as a Forest Guardian, Sabrina also gave him several warnings.

“I wouldn’t really tell anyone about your position,” she cautioned him. “Too many mortals don’t believe in the supernatural, so you’ll only look crazy if you try to explain these things to people. What’s more is that mortals are really good at rationalizing, so even if you try to show them evidence, they’ll just come up with some way of invalidating you by justifying what they’re seeing with logic. Really, it’s better if you just don’t get them involved.”

Preoccupied with admiring his armor, Kevin didn’t answer right away. Sabrina had given him a black leather jacket and a pair of ribbed black leather motorcycle pants. They were both enchanted with barrier spells to protect the wearer from most harm, but as she told him, they were mundane enough to help him blend in when he needed to pass as a civilian.

“Kevin.” A hint of annoyance crept into Sabrina’s tone. “Do you understand what I told you?”

When he didn’t answer, she reached out and tapped his armor with two fingers. To his astonishment, it vanished, his streets clothes returning, the only a change a brass filigree ring appearing on his finger. The ring’s design was of branching vines that wound from his knuckle to his first joint; it reminded Kevin of the Elvish jewelry characters wore in _The Lord of the Rings_ movies.

“I got it,” Kevin replied somewhat sheepishly.

“Good.” Sabrina pointed to his ring. “That ring contains your armor. It won’t leave your finger, no matter what. It’s enchanted to always remain with you. If you want to wear your armor, just tap it once to activate it. Only you can decide to when to wear it or not.”

“But you just—”

Sabrina shook her head. “That was only to demonstrate. Now that I’ve shown you how to put it on and and take it off, I no longer have any control over it.”

“Huh.” Kevin sent Sabrina a questioning glance. “I’ve still got some questions. No offense Sabrina, but how come you’re the one to tell me all this? And why me, of all people? Being a Forest Guardian seems like a pretty important job, so why entrust it to a teenager? And why ask another teenager to be the one to tell him all about it?”

“Well, initiating you into the supernatural world and then serving as your point of contact—‘liaison,’ they called it—is just one of the many tasks I have to do to get my official Witch’s License. As for you . . .” Sabrina shrugged. “Who’s to say why the Witches Council decides to do what they do? For all I know, they just randomly picked your name off of a list. I’m honestly not sure, but I’d guess the selection process is pretty informal.”

“How flattering,” Kevin said dryly.

“While we’re on the subject, I would appreciate if you didn’t tell anybody I’m a witch. You’re allowed to know, because you’re no longer a mortal, but if a mortal finds out and then they tell someone else, I then have go and turn that first person into sand,” Sabrina informed him.

“Noted.” Kevin frowned, perplexed. “But, wait, how do I know who to fight and where?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Sabrina snapped her fingers, and a book materialized before Kevin. The tome was a handsome one, bound rich mahogany leather with symbols and scrollwork etched into the front cover. “This is your Grimoire, or your one-book library on all you need to know about the supernatural. Whenever the Witches Council has new task for you, it will automatically update itself with all the information needed.”

“Like a mission dossier!” Kevin enthused, eagerly opening the book, only to be disappointed. He looked up at Sabrina. “It’s blank.”

Sabrina smiled. “That’s because you don’t have your weapon yet.”

“I get a weapon?” Kevin raised his eyebrows.

“The Witches’ Council may be a wacky bunch, but they’re not going to send to battle ogres without a weapon,” Sabrina assured him. “Hold out your arm.”

Kevin did as she asked, pushing up the sleeve of the plaid shirt he wore over his ACDC T-shirt.

Taking his wrist in her hand, Sabrina closed her eyes in concentration.

At first, Kevin watched her closely with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, but then he was distracted by a tingling in his arm. Glancing down, Kevin was startled to see glowing threads of energy snake from Sabrina’s fingers to his own, shifting from one color to another as they twined across his skin. The tingling intensified once the energy stopped at his elbow, and Kevin couldn’t hold back a sharp inhale as the sensation shifted to a sudden stabbing pain.

But in an instant, it was over and the energy was gone, leaving something of a small, white brand in its place. Examining the marking, Kevin found it to be some sort of symbol that did not look unlike the Celtic Tree of Life, but the tree was contained within a diamond rather than a circle. The image was faint against his flesh, its outline almost blending into the natural color of his skin, not especially noticeable at first glance.

“It’s like a white ink tattoo,” Kevin marvelled, tracing the lines of the design.

“The tree is the official sigil of the Forest Guardians,” Sabrina explained. “The weapon of a Guardian is closely bound to its wielder, both in its appearance and nature. The magic creates the weapon, but your personality shapes it.” She nodded at his brand. “In times of danger, you will be able to pull your weapon out of your skin. This way, your weapon will always be a part of you.”

“Like Marrow from _X-Men_ ,” Kevin remarked.

"Yeah, I don’t know who that it is,” Sabrina told him. She glanced at her watch. “And I actually have to run. I’m supposed to be getting magic lessons from my aunts in about five minutes.” She rose from her chair, waving goodbye as she started to walk away.

“Wait!” Kevin called after her. “How will I know how to contact you?”

“I’ll call when you need it,” Sabrina said. “Sort of a ‘don’t call me, I’ll call you’ type of thing. But don’t worry, I’ll be in touch soon. Gotta run!” With a cheery, if hurried, wave, she dashed out the library doors.

Somewhat flummoxed by her abrupt arrival and departure, Kevin watched her go. Honestly, now that she was gone, he couldn’t resist questioning all that she had told him. Witches, the supernatural,

Idly opening the Grimoire again, Kevin was surprised but then comforted to find that instructions had appeared on the first page.

_Evergreen Forest. Execute the ghoul._

* * *

Before leaving the house that night, Kevin cleaned up after dinner, loaded the dishwasher, and placed his fourteen-year-old sister Denise in charge of watching their younger sister, eleven-year-old Patty. Their mother usually travelled across the country for work and their father was frequently preoccupied with his sheriffing duties and now the Jason Blossom case. As such, Kevin was accustomed to acting as the primary authority figure within the Keller household, and managing the brunt of the chores that accompanied it.

He pulled his old Ford Bronco, once a county-owned car that had been gifted to him after it was retired from use, out of the three-car garage that attached to the main house. Truthfully, their family home, an enormous stone Tudor set back from the main road, was far bigger than their family needed. But his dad had inherited the home from a deceased great uncle just before Kevin began high school last year. The bequeathment had convinced his parents to end their globetrotting military lifestyle and permanently settle down.

Doubt plagued Kevin’s mind the entire drive over to Evergreen Forest as his stomach churned in anticipation of his first mission. The Grimoire had gone on to give a description of ghouls (reminiscent of a baboon-human hybrid, but with no hair and gray skin), as well as signs they were nearby (an usual amount of large dead mammals that appeared to be mauled by a bear or mountain lion). But Kevin wasn’t sure if he had the proper amount of skill to win a fight against an untested magical creature. Hell, at this point, he didn’t even know what type of weapon he had.

But he had some confidence, at least. His father had insisted both Kevin and his sisters take self-defense lessons, as well as attend wilderness survival camp every summer. Currently, Kevin held a brown belt in Krav Maga and had completed courses in outdoor tracking, so not all of his skills were totally irrelevant.

Besides, he had brought with him the spare revolver his mother kept hidden in its box beneath the couch in the front parlor. For good measure, he had also brought along his own hunting knife, a gift from his father for his thirteenth birthday. He thought the engraved sheath strapped to his thigh went well with his leather armor.

There were only a few other cars in the parking lot when Kevin pulled in, but that was to be expected for eight o’clock on a weeknight in late August. Stepping out of the truck, he locked the doors and looked around as he began walking toward the central path, the gravel crunching beneath his steel-toed work boots. No one was in sight, not even at the wooden picnic tables off to the side beneath the trees. Good; the fewer people in potential danger, the better.

He followed the trail about fifty yards, until it split off into three separate paths. Evergreen Forest was a favorite running spot of the cross country team, and so Kevin knew all of them by heart. The one veering off to the left went down to what was basically marshland. The area was always incredibly muddy, but it was good for younger kids who wanted to catch frogs or turtles. The trail going right went up a long, steep hill that was often used for team endurance workouts. And the trail that went straight ahead would take him on a meandering journey through the forest, but it would put him close to Sweetwater River.

The river trail was the one Kevin selected. After all, the Grimoire said that ghouls ate large mammals, and all mammals needed to drink.

His hunch proved correct; about a dozen yards off from the trail, not far from the water’s edge, he found a freshly dead but thoroughly mauled deer carcass.

With a mix of satisfaction and revulsion, Kevin knelt down by the disemboweled corpse. The animal was only in the early hours of decay, and its stench was mild rather than overpowering. While the treeline was dense, the day had been hot and muggy; the deer would be rotting already if it had been dead all morning and afternoon.

The ghoul was nearby.

His senses on full alert, Kevin continued up the river to where it widened and deepened, its flow more rapid and intense, crashing over the rocks. Ghouls were said to favor cold, damp places, and there were several half-submerged caves along the deeper areas of the river.

As he traipsed along, he was very aware of the cicadas’ persistent hum that accompanied evening’s fade into night. He was losing daylight, the sun retiring, and there were few places where the loss of light was more pronounced and noticeable than in a dense forest.

Kevin could practically feel his mood dimming with the sunlight, even as he reached the caves, standing on the riverbank  above them. What the hell was he doing, honestly? Fighting monsters with zero clue of what he was doing, all because some people he had never met expected him to? Was it not enough that he was a star cross country runner, sophomore class president, and leader of the community service, biology, history, and outdoor experience clubs? Why did _everyone_ rely on him for _everything?_

Then again, Kevin mentally countered, he was never one to back away from a challenge. Maybe this Forest Guardian thing was perfect for him after all.

Still, though, he wanted to get this confrontation over with as soon as possible—he had laundry to do when he got home.  

Removing his hunting knife from its sheath on his leg, Kevin eyed it speculatively, the blade gleaming in the remaining sunlight. Another piece of information he had gleaned from the Grimoire was that ghouls were enticed by the scent of fresh blood. Why not put the accelerated healing Sabrina had told him about to the test?

Positioning the knife against his palm with the hilt meeting the edge of his hand, Kevin pressed down as hard as he could, slicing into his flesh. He was unable to hold back a gasp of pain as the knife cut deep. His blood welled from the wound, trickling down in rivulets . . . until it didn’t.

As Kevin watched, amazed, the blood seemed to retract, flowing backwards into the wound. Within seconds, the gash was sealing itself, leaving only a scar, but then the scar faded, too. Turning his hand over and back again, Kevin couldn’t detect any sign he had ever even come into contact with the knife. It was incredible—the wound was just _gone_ , like Logan and his healing factor from the _X-Men_ comics.

He had to see the healing in action again.

Raking the blade over his arm and gritting his teeth through the sting, Kevin stared in fascination as the injury reversed itself, his flesh knitting back together, leaving no mark of any kind.

“Bitchin’,” Kevin whispered to himself in awe.

Thirsting to see the healing once more, he used the knife on himself again and then again. But just as he was poised to repeat the process, a low, guttural growl reached his ears, and sudden pins-and-needles sensation overcame his right wrist, as if his arm had fallen asleep. For a split second, Kevin felt his stomach drop in dread, but then he was struck with a pervasive sense of calm. Sheathing his knife, he whirled to see what awaited him.

It was the ghoul. Matching the diagrams within the Grimoire, the creature rested on its haunches with it short legs bent at the knees, overly long arms planted on the ground. Bat-like ears protruded from its wrinkled head, and pale, milky eyes stared out of its gray, leathery face. Even from a distance of fifteen feet, Kevin could smell the odor of decay rolling off of its body.

For a moment, the ghoul stood like a statue, observing Kevin. Then its lips peeled back in a snarl, exposing yellow, jagged teeth, and it charged forward.

The weight of a weapon suddenly materializing in his hand, Kevin found himself rushing to meet it. As if he were operating on autopilot, he found himself swinging his weapon with precision and accuracy, landing a blow on the ghoul before it could even touch him. Even as Kevin questioned how he had managed that, he found himself unable to concentration on thought, just action. And his actions were with certainty.

His favor was not short-lived; he found himself scoring hits again and again, as if guided or programmed for strategy. Before long, triumph was his, and he was left grimacing down at the lifeless body of the ghoul, wondering exactly what he had accomplished and how he had done it.

The success was improbable. Kevin should have been nervous, fumbling, and inexperienced, and yet he was the victor of the fight, as if he had instinctively known what to do. But he knew that he _didn’t_ know. Just minutes earlier, Kevin had been flummoxed about how to deal with the ghoul, and now he was totally clueless as to how he had won.

As Kevin gazed as the corpse, vine tendrils began sprouting out of the ground to surround the ghoul, slowly at first, then at a rapid pace that had Kevin backing away. The vines continued surfacing, wrapping around the ghoul and covering it completely, and then dragging it down beneath the earth, leaving nothing but upturned soil in its place.

Well, that was that. It looked like his task was complete for the night.

Turning to walk back to the trail, the weight of the object he was holding registered with him, and Kevin took it in both hands for examination. Not unlike a mace, it basically amounted to a wooden baseball bat with metal spikes jutting from the barrel. The design reminded Kevin of a World War I trench club. And also of Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s baseball bat on _The Walking Dead_.

“Goddammit,” Kevin groaned aloud as he realized the resemblance. Here he was, with a spiked bat and a leather jacket. “I probably look like some pathetic Negan cosplayer.”

Beginning the trek back to his truck, Kevin studied the club again. Sabrina had said the weapon was supposed to be a representation of his inner self. Apparently, his inner self preferred viciously and violently beating creatures with a blunt instrument, a tactic that was both laborious and ineffectual. If given the choice, he would rather use a more swift method of execution, with a crossbow or a sword. Hell, he was a member of the archers’ league at school.

“Hmph.” Kevin kicked irritably at the gravel of the lot, scattering the pebbles before him as he approached his truck. “Maybe I can get it exchanged.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Kevin pulled into the high school parking lot after dropping off Patty and Denise at their respective schools, he felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn’t like keeping secrets from his dad, and it had been a relief to unburden himself to him, even if, he remembered guiltily as he exited the Bronco XLT, he hadn’t explained the whole truth.

He was drawn out of his thoughts at the shout of “Head’s up!” and the sight of a football sailing towards him out of the sky. Reaching up into the air, he caught it deftly and turned to the direction where it came from.

“Over here, Keller!” Reggie Mantle called. He and a group of football players, all friends of Kevin, were standing by Reggie’s Porsche.

With no hesitation, Kevin launched the football right back at him before jogging over to join the group. Beyond Reggie, Moose, Chuck, Vic, and Danny were all there.

“Good arm,” Reggie complimented him when he arrived. “Always thought you should go out for the football team with throws like that.”

“I’ve never been one for team sports,” Kevin replied with a shrug. “That’s why I like running and swimming. I only have to worry about myself.”

“Yeah, but you’re so good with people, though,” Moose opined, sincerity in his tone.

Kevin threw him an irritated glance, but he was cut off by Vic Johnson.

“That how you got that shiner?” he asked, folding his well-muscled arms across his broad chest. “On the cross country course?”

“Something like that,” Kevin said offhandedly, hoping no one would ask any further questions about his black eye. His skin prickled, though, as he became very aware of Moose staring fixedly at him and Vic eying him skeptically.

Luckily for Kevin, Reggie redirected the group’s attention.

“Ugh, would you look at that,” he said in disgust, nodding at several students who were standing by the flagpole. “Looks like that Jones freak finally found a girlfriend.”

Kevin followed his gaze to where Jughead Jones stood alongside Betty Cooper, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They appeared to be chatting with Archie Andrews and a dark-haired girl whose name Kevin didn’t know.

“Ugh, Betty Cooper?” Chuck sneered. “What a cold bitch. I bet you anything Jones’s dick freezes off the first time he tries to get all up in her vag.”

Kevin bit back a sharp retort. Last year, Chuck never would have said something so crass, especially not about Betty or Jughead, both of whom he had been friendly with. But for whatever reason, Chuck had been acting totally unlike himself ever since school had started last week, all brash ego and crude and cruel remarks. While Kevin was flummoxed as to what inspired the change, he desperately wished for the old Chuck back.

But at the moment, Reggie and his posse were the closest friends Kevin had, and he didn’t want to endanger that by challenging Chuck. So he settled back to wait out the storm, forcing down the angry words rising in his throat.

“Hey, all the better for us if that hipster weirdo never breeds,” Reggie commented contemptuously. He’d always had a special place of loathing for Jughead.

“Both of you shut up,” Vic said sharply, glancing at Kevin.

Chuck waved a hand. “No, it’s all right.” He looked at Kevin. “You don’t hang out with any of them anymore, do you?”

All of them turned to look at Kevin for his response, and he felt his face heat as he tried to keep his tone casual.

“I don’t,” Kevin admitted.

A pang ran through him, not for the first time, as he recalled the incident that had separated him from his three friends in the early summer. So many times he’d been tempted to reunite with them, but in the end, each time he’d convinced himself to simply move on.

Well, it looked like the three of them had moved on as well, judging by how quickly they’d replaced him with the dark-haired girl.

“Why not?” Danny asked curiously. “They burn you, or what?”

“Well—” Kevin’s mind raced to fabricate a response, but Chuck cut him off before he could respond.

“I bet that Cooper bitch ditched him the instant she started fucking Jones. Turned him out ’cause she wanted tail,” Chuck remarked. He glanced at Kevin. “But just in case she and Jones break up, is she any good in bed?”

Kevin’s skin crawled at hearing Chuck talk about Betty like she was totally inconsequential, and he had to stifle the outraged reply in defense of her.

“I’m not into women, remember?” he reminded Chuck instead. “Of course Betty and I were never together.”

Chuck shrugged. “Thought you two might have experimented or some shit.”

Moose snorted, and Kevin sent him another sharp look.

He changed the subject in an attempt to discourage any more commentary about Betty. “Who’s the girl beside Archie?”

“You don’t know?” Danny asked in disbelief.

“I don’t pay attention to gossip,” Kevin replied disapprovingly.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a regular saint.” Reggie rolled his eyes. “That’s Veronica Lodge, daughter of Hiram Lodge, that mega rich guy who got sent to jail. Her and her mom are broke, so they moved back here to lick their wounds since they couldn’t afford high society anymore. She thinks she’s all that and seems high-maintenance, but still, she’s got great tits. I wouldn’t mind getting a chance to hit that.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Chuck agreed, looking Veronica up and down. “I’ve added her to the list of chicks I plan to bang before Christmas break.”

Kevin shifted uncomfortably, but had no idea of what to say in response. He hated how Chuck referred to Veronica, but he didn’t want to put his social life in a worse position than it actually was by arguing with him.

It was a relief when the first bell rang, forcing them apart as they all split off, each going to their own homerooms. However, he wasn’t quite able to shake Moose, who followed him to his locker.

“Can I help you?” Kevin asked coolly as he spun the dial on the combination lock. Moose wasn’t really someone he was particularly eager to talk to at the moment.

Moose hesitated before replying. “Look, about this past summer—”

“It stays a secret,” Kevin said adamantly before he could finish. “No one needs to know that I helped you cheat on Midge. For Christ’s sake, she’s one of my friends. We’re in student government together.”

His brief romantic liaison with Moose was only the second most shameful incident of the summer, which probably indicated some deeply worrying issues about Kevin’s life. But it was shameful nonetheless.

Midge had been gone for the summer. Moose had propositioned Kevin, swearing he and Midge were on a break. Kevin had accepted, only to find out later from Midge herself that she and Moose were not, in fact, on a break, and were still exclusively dating. Or so she’d thought. With no hesitation, Kevin had ditched Moose after swearing him to secrecy—he didn’t want to get a reputation as a homewrecker.

Since then, Kevin had tried to avoid Moose, not wanting to be reminded of his mistakes every time he saw him. But with his limited social circle these days, he had little choice to start hanging out with him again.

“I am sorry,” Moose said, and he seemed genuine. It wasn’t the first time he apologized to Kevin about the whole affair.

Kevin took a deep breath, trying to quell his rising temper as he opened his locker and began swapping out his books. “That’s fine. You can be sorry. Just so long as you remember that you’re with Midge, and as far as we’re concerned, you were always with Midge. You and I  _ never happened _ ,” he informed him firmly.

A moment passed before Moose responded. “Would you ever want to be with me? If you could?”

“It doesn’t matter, because I can’t,” Kevin told him sharply. “You’re with Midge. You two have a good thing going. Don’t throw that away.”

Truthfully, Kevin wouldn’t mind being with someone, Moose included. Sometimes he just wanted someone to hold and to hold him in turn. He just wanted to be with someone so he didn’t have to feel so alone and isolated from everyone else.

However, that wasn’t happening at the moment, and he certainly couldn’t let it happen with Moose.

But the heart wanted what the heart wanted. Even as Kevin sternly ordered himself to stop fantasizing about Moose, his pulse began racing as Moose lifted a hand to gently brush his fingers along Kevin’s black eye.

“Stop it,” Kevin said, but he couldn’t manage to put any heat into his voice.

Moose frowned. “Listen, if someone’s giving you trouble—”

Kevin interrupted him. “Then I’ll handle it myself. We’re not involved, Moose, remember?”

“Couldn’t we at least be friends?” Moose asked plaintively.

“We  _ are _ friends.” Kevin punctuated the statement by slamming his locker door shut. “We were never anything else.”

With that, he walked away toward his homeroom, breathing a sigh of relief when Moose let him go without protest.

His phone buzzed just before he entered the room and Kevin withdrew it from his pocket to check the message.

**_Lucas:_ ** _ We need to talk. Can you meet us at The Whyte Wyrm at 9? _

Right, Forest Guardian stuff. Surrounded by the haze of high school drama, Kevin had nearly forgotten. Last night, he had met Lucas, one of the vampires from the Riverdale Coven. He’d stopped fellow vampire and coven member Charlotte while she was in the middle of beating the tar out of Kevin when she’d mistaken him for an enemy.

With no hesitation, Kevin quickly texted back an agreement, slipping his phone back into his pocket and ducking into the classroom when he saw Betty and Jughead walking by, holding hands and grinning at each other in that sickeningly lovey-dovey way. He pushed away the familiar ache of loneliness as he squared his shoulders, mentally preparing himself for the meeting later that night.

He’d take vampires over his fellow teenagers any day of the week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever want to chat, here's my [Dreamwidth](https://maeve-of-winter.dreamwidth.org/), my [LiveJournal](https://whimsicalnixie.livejournal.com/), and my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/maeve-of-winter). My private email is goldphoenixrising@yahoo.com.
> 
> The ideas and most characters in the Lucifus and Riverdale Covens are from Betty and Veronica #261 and #262.

The Whyte Wyrm was the quintessential dive bar, with paint peeling on the outside, nearly every surface chipped and worn on the inside, and reeking of acrid tobacco smoke. Located just past a neighborhood of abandoned houses with plywood over the doors and windows, the only reason people bothered coming to this particular street was to drink. With the bar home to the Serpents, one of Southside’s gangs, the patrons tended to be people who wouldn’t hesitate to start a fight if they thought someone had a problem with them.

But that night when Kevin ambled into the dim bar, armor on and trench club at the ready, he found the dingy interior to be a welcome change from school. At least here he didn’t run the risk of either encountering one of his former friends and dealing with the awkwardness there, or getting stuck guilty listening to his new friends rag on those same former friends. And while Kevin did consider the bar’s inclusion of a glass terrarium with a large snake writhing within to be an odd choice, it didn’t dissuade him; at least it wasn’t more of Riverdale High’s institutional fluorescence.

The bar was crowded, and it took Kevin several moments of squinting through the dim lighting and clouds of smoke to find where Charlotte and her coven was sitting. But once he did spot them at the far side of the bar, he made his way across the large room, weaving around leather-clad patrons to reach their table.

When his eyes initially landed on them, he had to wonder for a moment why he would have had trouble locating them at all. Each one of the group seemed to be in sharper focus than their surroundings, bringing their bodies and movements to seem more real, more lifelike than the comparatively dull background. It was as if they were in a photo or on film, and the edges of their profiles were hardened while the rest of the setting was blurred.

Otherwise, the Riverdale vampires looked entirely human. All four of the coven were young and attractive, dressed in sporty but stylish clothing, with the lean but well-muscled build of practiced athletes. They all appeared to be in their mid-twenties, though Kevin was unsure of their actual ages.

Charlotte, the leader of the coven, was an Asian woman with an aura of discipline and self-restraint. Lucas was dark-haired with eyes to match, and the short sleeves of his tight white tee revealed tattoos swirling up his well-defined biceps. Ashton had golden blond hair that he wore long and loose down to his shoulders, kept neatly groomed, a contrast to the several days’ worth of stubble on his chin. The final member of the group, Nathaniel, was dark-skinned and dark-haired, with black eyes that held an alert and intelligent gleam.

He’d met them all very briefly the previous night, when Charlotte had mistaken him for an enemy and attacked him. Once Lucas had realized Kevin was Forest Guardian and not a threat, he stopped her, and she’d apologized and given a brief explanation and introduction. Then Ashton and Nathaniel had shown up, citing trouble in another part of their territory. Before the four of them left, Charlotte had ordered Lucas to swap phone numbers with Kevin to arrange a meeting.

It was a whirlwind of chaos and disorganization, two things Kevin hated. He hoped to end any confusion or ambiguity between them during their meeting tonight.

Squaring his shoulders, Kevin walked over to join them.

“Hey, Kevin,” Lucas said with a smile, and even though Kevin was trying to stay focused, his heart leapt. Lucas really epitomized tall, dark, and handsome. “Want a drink?” He held up the bottle of absinthe they were sharing.

Kevin shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m on the job.” He pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Evening,” Charlotte said neutrally. She gave him a quick once-over, her eyes scanning him swiftly but fully. “Your injuries are mostly healed,” she noted.

“Perks of the title,” Kevin confirmed.

Charlotte nodded once in acknowledgement. “I must apologize again for waylaying you last night. We’re facing no shortage of threats at the moment, but that’s no excuse for recklessness and poor decisions.”

“Reckless” wasn’t a word he would use to describe her, even if they’d only met briefly. Kevin’s mind briefly flashed to how she had acted last night—even while dispensing brutal violence, she’d been carefully controlled, moving swiftly and effectively to dispose of him. She hadn’t wanted to take risks, just wanted to take him down as smoothly and quickly as possible, and if not for his healing abilities, he would be dead. Charlotte, he had decided, was not someone he wanted as a foe.

“No matter,” Kevin assured her. “But why don’t you tell me about these enemies of yours? I’ve had instructions to resolve the conflict between you and the, um, Lucifus vampires.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Is that their real name?”

“It’s our shorthand for them,” Lucas replied. “Their leader is Callista Lucifus, hence our nickname for them.”

“ ‘Callista’?” Kevin repeated. “Like that one trilogy of Kevin J. Anderson  _ Star Wars  _ books?”

All four of them stared at him quizzically for a moment.

Kevin sighed. “Never mind. What’s the deal with the Lucifus Coven? Why do you have a problem with them?”

“It’s several minor matters that are beginning to result in a larger dispute,” Charlotte explained. She gestured to herself and her coven. “We call ourselves the Riverdale Coven, not only because it is our territory, but also because we abide by the Witches Council and Unseelie Accords. We respect the citizens, both magical and mundane, who live here.”

Kevin frowned. “What are the Unseelie Accords?”

Nathaniel’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t know? Didn’t the Witches Council tell you?”

“They’re actually pretty bad where the whole idea of communication is concerned,” Kevin admitted. “Seriously, they sent a teenager to induct me. A teenage witch, but still. But I do know a bit about the vampire courts.” He looked at them interestedly. “What court are you from?”

“We are of the Jade Court, and Lucifus and her followers are of the White Court,” Charlotte answered. “With the Black Court’s decline throughout history, as well as the Red Court’s recent downturn, the Jade and the White Court are the two most powerful divisions remaining.”

Kevin recalled the limited information his Grimoire had provided him. “The White Court feeds on sexual energy, right? But I really had nothing on the Jade Court, just a mention that you exist. That’s it.”

“And that’s our preference,” Charlotte replied, looking at him directly. “The less known of us, the better. Knowledge is power, and we won’t give that away freely. It would be too simple for it to fall into the hands of an enemy.”

“Fair enough,” Kevin said. “But was I right about the White Court?”

“Right about some of them. House Raith of the White Court feeds on sexual energy,” Lucas explained. “Callista is a Raith, so that’s how she feeds. There are other Houses as well. Callista’s followers are of the House of Skavis—they feed on despair.”

“And they’re hurt by true hope,” Kevin said, thinking back on what he’d read.

“That’s right,” Ashton said. “Now, the White Court is highly political. There are always at least five coups being plotted by other members to overthrow their leader and at least another three being staged. Someone is always vying for control, and we think Callista is that person at the moment.”

Kevin glanced around at them. “I don’t mean to sound dumb, but why should you care about what happens with the White Court if you’re Jade Court?”

“Because we think that whatever Callista’s doing will inflate the White Court’s numbers and disrupt the balance of the Courts. See, the White Court only exists through inheritance,” Nathaniel told him. “Red Court and Black Court vampires are created. White Court vampires are born. But if Callista has managed to find an artificial way to create White Court vampires, if she’s managed to find a way to turn regular people, she could be building herself an army.”

“Do you think it’s likely that she has?” Kevin questioned.

“That’s for you determine,” Charlotte returned. “As the Forest Guardian, it is your responsibility to ensure there is balance in the supernatural world. The White Court expanding its reach would throw off that balance. Therefore, you must investigate the Lucifus Coven, and perform your duty as expected if you find them in violation of the Witches Council’s laws or the Unseelie Accords.”

“Still don’t know what the Unseelie Accords are,” Kevin remarked. Then the true meaning of her words dawned on Kevin. “You’re siccing me on your enemies in hopes I’m going to take them down,” he accused them. “You don’t want to get your hands dirty. Meanwhile, you’re watching me from the sidelines to see just what level of threat Callista and her goons are.”

Charlotte stood, not denying his claim. “The Jade Court did not survive in such anonymity by plunging headlong into conflict,” she returned. “It is best for us not to officially enter any altercation with the White Court as of now.”

With that she moved away from the table, walking toward the exit, and other Coven members followed her.

“Good luck,” Nathaniel said to Kevin before departing.

“Thanks,” Kevin muttered. “Hey, where am I even supposed to  _ find _ Callista?”  

But the vampires had already gone, and Kevin was left on his own.

“Typical,” he groused, reaching for the bottle of absinthe to take a swig. “No one wants to tell me a goddamn thing about this job, and yet I’m still supposed to somehow do it with no problem. How the hell do they expect it to work?”

Just as he was about to take a pull of absinthe, a hand reached out and deftly plucked the bottle from his grip. Kevin looked up to find that FP Jones stood there, wearing a Southside Serpents jacket and a dubious expression.

“This stuff’s not for kids,” FP drawled. “And neither is this place, as a matter of fact.” He raised an eyebrow at Kevin. “Just what exactly are you doing here?”

“Just meeting some people,” Kevin replied, hoping he sounded casual. “Hey, Mr. Jones. How are you doing?”

“Just ‘meeting people,’ huh?” FP glanced skeptically at Kevin’s trench club, obviously not buying the excuse. “Sure.” He looked at Kevin directly. “Haven’t seen you around for a while,” he commented. “Used to be that I couldn’t pull Jughead apart from you, Archie, and Betty, but now it’s just him and those two.”

“I’ve been busy since school started,” Kevin replied, but it sounded defensive to his own ears.

“Didn’t see you around during the summer, either,” FP returned, to which Kevin just shrugged.

He didn’t want to discuss what had happened between himself and Jughead, Betty, and Archie. Although it had been months, the wounds still felt too fresh, too raw. And he particularly wasn’t going to have a heart-to-heart in the Whyte Wyrm with the Southside Serpents’ leader about the matter.

“Suit yourself,” FP said when Kevin remained silent. “But you’re leaving now. This isn’t a playground.” He called to a nearby Serpent. “Joaquin!”

Joaquin responded, coming to stand beside FP, and, knowing enough to pick his battles, Kevin rose from his chair. He couldn’t help but notice, however, that Joaquin was very handsome, with smooth dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Joaquin, walk Kevin here to his car,” FP instructed him. He turned to Kevin. “And nothing personal, kid, but I never want to see you here again. But stop by the house sometime. Jughead would love to see you.”

_ No, he wouldn’t _ , Kevin thought morosely as he made his way out the door, Joaquin at his side. He had destroyed his friendships with Jughead, Betty, and Archie, unintentionally but nonetheless thoroughly. He had a better hope trying to strike up camaraderie with the Lucifus vampires than repairing those particular damaged relationships.

They had almost reached the truck, and Kevin turned to Joaquin to send him away, but the moment he opened his mouth to speak, Joaquin blurted out a question.

"Would you like to see me sometime?” he asked, the words streaming out of his mouth so quickly that Kevin had to consider them for several seconds to understand what had been said.

“You mean, like a date?” Kevin wondered, hoping he wasn’t making a fool out of himself by suggesting such.

“Yeah.” Joaquin shrugged, trying to appear casual but not accomplishing it. “If you want to. I just, uh, I think it would be cool.”

Barely able to believe what was happening (he never got asked on dates, even Moose had only been interested in hook-ups), Kevin handed him his phone.

“Here. Put in your name and number, and I can text you mine,” Kevin told him.

Joaquin followed his suggestion, and gave him back his phone, and Kevin quickly sent him a message, leading Joaquin’s own phone to ping.

Withdrawing it from the pocket of his leather jacket, Joaquin glanced at the screen and rose his eyebrows. “Your name is Keller? Any relation to Sheriff Keller, by any chance?”

Kevin arched an eyebrow. “He’s my father. What of it?”

“Nothing,” Joaquin said hastily. “Do you think you’d be good for dinner this weekend?”

He was being asked on an actual date. Giddiness flowed through Kevin at the prospect, and a wide grin stretched across his lips. “Sure. Just tell me what day.”

After exchanging goodbyes with Joaquin, Kevin swung up into his Ford Bronco, now feeling much better about the night’s events. Yeah, some vampire clan was trying to use him to get rid of another one, but he had a date. For the first time in his life,  _ he had a date _ .

He was about to start the engine when he noticed a wide, flat envelope on the passenger seat of the truck, one that hadn’t been there when he’d driven to the bar earlier that evening. And he’d been sure to lock the doors.

Opening the envelope, Kevin found an address and directions, as well as several labelled headshots of the Lucifus Coven. Well, he supposed the Riverdale Coven knew he couldn’t take down the White Court vampires for them if he didn’t know how to where to look. God, they were shameless in their attempts to maneuver him.

But all of that could wait for a while.

Starting the truck, Kevin rolled down his windows, turned up the radio, and peeled out of the parking lot, relishing in the wind streaming through his hair. He’d been asked on an actual date for the first time in his life, and it was a good feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Joaquin makes an appearance! He's interested in Kevin, but then, so is Moose. Any thoughts on who Kevin should end up with?
> 
> If you ever want to chat, here's my [Dreamwidth](https://maeve-of-winter.dreamwidth.org/), my [LiveJournal](https://whimsicalnixie.livejournal.com/), and my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/maeve-of-winter). My private email is goldphoenixrising@yahoo.com.


	5. Chapter 5

It was only the third day of his stakeout of the Lucifus Coven’s headquarters, and Kevin was already bored as hell.

This evening and the two evenings before it, ever since the Riverdale Coven had supplied him with the necessary address, he’d positioned himself to watch the location where the Lucifus Coven operated: a grand Gothic mansion that stood far apart from any neighborhood, surrounded by willow trees that eventually gave way to a dense pine forest. For caution’s sake, Kevin had parked his truck beneath the cover of brush in the forest and then crept as close to the house as he dared before ascending a tall pine. The height would allow him as good of a view of the house as could be managed through the various trees, though it basically amounted to only the driveway and the front door being visible, with tree limbs block most of the space in between. Still, he reasoned that observation would allow him better knowledge of his enemy, and therefore lend him the upper hand when he either had to fight them or simply negotiate with them.

But the job quickly became tedious. Apart from observing a group of four—two women and two men, all of whom matched the photos he’d been given of the Lucifus vampires—come and go in either silver or white luxury cars, he had gained nothing from his watch. There wasn’t anything remotely suspicious or even telling about their activities, though it was perhaps notable that not once did he see anyone ever approach the house that could be the potential feeding source for either the Raith vampire or the Skavis vampires.

As detailed in his Grimoire, the Skavis and the Raith vampires were both part of the White Court, a species of vampires that sustained themselves on emotional energies rather than blood itself. But White Court vampires, while priding themselves on coups and schemes and takeovers within their courts, were not creatures of strong self-control. They often fed recklessly, doing irreparable harm to the psyche or physical form of their form of their victim, sometimes fatally. 

The line of Raith vampires within the White Court sustained themselves on sexual energy, needing to feed regularly in order to maintain their superhuman strength and speed. And the fact that Callista Lucifus didn’t appear to be feeding on anyone, as far as Kevin could tell, and yet seemed perfectly healthy was very interesting to him indeed. 

But “perfectly healthy” was perhaps an understatement when referencing Callista Lucifus. In terms of looks, she was absolutely stunning, beyond beautiful and beyond gorgeous. Nearing a full six feet, with a body  that was fit and toned but simultaneously elegant and slim, while also possessing devastating curves that had previously seemed impossible to exist beyond Maxim magazine cover models, Lucifus could put any Hollywood actress to shame while sleepwalking. With her long curtain of silken black hair and pale, luminous skin, it seemed almost a tragedy that she hadn’t been discovered by any type of talent agency herself and therefore unable to share her ludicrously good looks with the rest of the world.

The three other vampires, the Skavis, were very good-looking, but they lacked Lucifus’s raw sex appeal. Both men were very fit and muscle-bound, dressing in tight jeans and tank tops to show off their impossibly well-built forms. If Kevin’s information from the Riverdale Coven was correct, the one with long blond hair, always worn loose whenever Kevin saw him, went by the name of Damian, while the other, whose head was shaved clean of hair and instead tattooed with ancient-looking black symbols, was called Mamarce. Meanwhile, the other woman, with fiery red hair worn short and an athletic but still ambly curved build, was known as Velthuria. 

Where the Raith vampires fed on sex, with their weakness being love, the Skavis vampires fed on despair, with their weakness being hope. Utilizing these weaknesses was imperative to ever gain the upper hand with them. In the long hours Kevin had watched the house, he’d devised many plans and weapon ideas that would if the time ever came that he needed to fight them. At first he’d been somewhat nervous about the idea, recognizing his lack of experience, but at this point, Kevin was so bored he was halfway ready to bang on their front door and provoke them just for a bit of excitement.

Kevin let a long sigh, shifting his perch on the tree limb. Not only was this stakeout dull, but it was also lonely, a reminder of how isolated he was from almost everyone else now that he was the Forest Guardian. 

He should have at least gotten a cool sidekick, he mused. If he had to deal with that lame-ass trench club as a weapon for this job that he never wanted or requested in the first place, then he really should have also been provided some kind of animal familiar. Like a wolf. Or a Siberian tiger—sure, they weren’t native to Riverdale’s part of the country, but if he was was given magic armor, couldn’t he also get a magic tiger? Hell, he really should get a magical creature as a companion, like a dragon or something . . .

With a glum sigh, Kevin returned to his watch, his curiosity sparking slightly when he glimpsed a the gleam of metal in motion through the trees; a car was approaching the house. His interest was further piqued when the car halted in the driveway—it was a two-door green Pontiac with a spoiler that might have been a model from the early nineties. It look familiar, but Kevin couldn’t quite place it.  

But when its driver stepped out, Kevin recognized him right away: Chuck Clayton, his friend and teammate, who’d been given the Pontiac for his sixteenth birthday by his parents. He was even wearing his Bulldogs varsity letterman jacket.

“What the hell?” Kevin wondered aloud, his eyes fixed on Chuck as he shut the door of of the Pontiac and began walking toward the immense doors of the mansion before disappearing from sight beneath the trees. In the absence of any kind of traffic noises around him, he could hear when one of the solid wooden doors swung open for Chuck to enter and then firmly closed again. There was only the briefest of pauses in between Chuck’s arrival at the doorstep and the door opening, which indicated there weren’t all that many safety mechanisms; from what Kevin gleaned from his days of watching, the mansion didn’t have much security. Could be useful.

Narrowing his eyes, Kevin zeroed in on the mansion. At long last, things were getting interesting.

* * *

For close to two hours, both he and Chuck remained at the house. Just as Kevin was debating whether to charge into the house and extract Chuck himself, the front doors opened and Chuck exited, looking none the worse for wear, from what he could see.

Squinting down at him, Kevin tried to determine if the vampires had been feeding off of him and which one it would have been, but even with his enhanced senses, he couldn’t tell. 

For an instant, Kevin weighed his options—he could remain where he was and report back to Sabrina on what was going on. Or he could go and wait for Chuck’s car at the end of the road, away from the house, and see what he could pry out of him.

There wasn’t really a choice, not for Kevin. He had been appointed—admittedly, unwillingly appointed—to protect the citizens of Riverdale, and that included Chuck. And if Sabrina and her Witches Council had objections to the way he operated, or if they thought he shouldn’t be intervening with the vampires’ business, they should have let him know that by now.

Swinging off of his branch, Kevin let himself plummet to the ground, landing in a graceful crouch. Springing up, he put some of his newfound speed to use and raced through the woods to just past the bend in the road that blocked the mansion from view. He and Chuck would be able to talk privately now, without worry about being spotted by the vampires.

If that was one of Chuck’s worries, that was.

Kevin mused on the matter as the familiar churn of Chuck’s engine reached him; his Pontiac was approaching. Could Chuck be working for the vampires? But they were a powerful organization of massive wealth and powers, with superhuman abilities. What could they possibly want with one single human teenager?

Of course, he also couldn’t help but wonder what these particular four vampires were doing in Riverdale at all. If the White Court was as powerful as his information said, why waste time in such a backwater, podunk town? Unless, of course, it was the vampires’ goal to keep a low profile, to get the element of surprise . . .

But as the Pontiac rounded the corner and slowed to a halt at the sight of him, Kevin pushed all speculation out of his mind. No need to wonder when he had a source for answers right in front of him.

“Hey, Chuck,” Kevin said conversationally, lifting foot and resting it on the front bumper, trying to appear as relaxed and nonchalant as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He got no response. Instead, Chuck just sat there in the driver’s seat, looking at straight at him but not speaking, as if he couldn’t truly register that Kevin was there.

Frowning, Kevin took his foot off the bumper and walked around to peer into the driver’s side window. He noticed that as he did, Chuck did not track his movements, instead continuing to stare straight ahead.

Concerned, Kevin rapped on his window. “Chuck?”

Chuck turned to look at him, and after a moment, he rolled down the window, his expression curiously vacant. “Oh. Hello.” 

“You doing all right?” Kevin asked, studying Chuck, trying to determine a cause for his impassiveness.

There was a pause before Chuck nodded. “Fine.” Then there was another pause before he added, “Kevin,” as if he had only just then remembered Kevin’s name.

His hands going to rest on his hips, Kevin quickly assessed the situation. God only knew what Chuck had been doing with those vampires, but it seemed to have left him barely capable of speech, let alone driving. It would be a public hazard to let Chuck go on his way with him as he was—Kevin would have to drive him home. 

Just another one of his duties as Riverdale’s friendly neighborhood Forest Guardian, Kevin supposed.

With a sigh, he opened the Pontiac’s door and indicated with his arm that Chuck should get out of the driver’s seat. “Walk around to the passenger’s side, won’t you? I’m not exactly Jesus, but I am taking the wheel.”

* * *

Throughout the drive, Kevin tried several more times, each to no avail, to question Chuck about his involvement with the vampires. By the time he deposited Chuck and the Pontiac at the Clayton house, he was feeling frustrated by how little he knew and how limited he was in taking action.

After bringing back his own car from the stakeout point, Kevin concluded that enough with enough with these vampires. While he had objected at the Riverdale Coven trying to manipulate him into acting against their enemies, it was clear now that the Lucifus Coven did pose a threat to Riverdale. With it being Kevin’s duty to protect the town, much as he didn’t want it, he didn’t have much of a choice but to confront the Lucifus vampires and find out what the hell was going on. If the Witches Council had a problem with it, they should have done a better job of keeping him in the loop instead of letting the Riverdale Coven direct him.

The Riverdale Coven . . . it occurred to Kevin that with them sending him the location of the Lucifus Coven, they were just trying to have him take out their rivals so they didn’t have to put in the work. But even so, the Lucifus vampires needed to answer for whatever they were doing to Chuck.

Still, Kevin hated the idea of being manipulated, and he was loathe to let anyone, human or supernatural, take advantage of him. So, he decided, after some debate with himself, he should at least let his only connection to the Council have some idea of what he was doing.

Grabbing a pen, he flipped open his Grimoire and scrawled a hasty note to Sabrina, briefly explaining that there were a bunch of vampires about, that he didn't trust any of them, but that some appeared to be harming one of Riverdale’s citizens, which he would not stand for. Once he was finished, he closed the journal with a solid  _ snap _ , and then pushed back his chair to leave his room, intent on going searching through the attic.

Callista Lucifus was weak to love. Her Skavis cronies were weak to hope. And if Kevin remembered correctly, there was a box of love letters in the attic that had been exchanged between his great uncle and great aunt during World War II. At least a few of them probably detailed the Allies’ victory and plans for a homecoming and a wedding.

Hope and love, in one fell swoop.

“White Court, here I come,” Kevin muttered, queueing up a Youtube video explaining how to make homemade shotgun shells before going to retrieve the letters to wrap them in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone reading! If you ever want to chat, here's my [Tumblr](http://maeve-of-winter.tumblr.com/). I love discussion and hearing people's thoughts, so feel free to submit ideas or just talk Riverdale.


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